


The Malfoy Family Secret

by cazmalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abduction, Established Relationship, M/M, The Malfoy Family Secret, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:45:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6625597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazmalfoy/pseuds/cazmalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco was due to come face to face with Voldemort over the summer between his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. That's a little too close to being evil for his liking, and he flees Malfoy Manor.</p><p>There's only person he can turn to who he can really trust.</p><p>Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written back in 2002; between the release of The Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix. 
> 
> ***
> 
> I will warn you, right here, that there are only 8 chapters of this, and it is not finished. It was originally written in 2002.
> 
> I am trying to move all of my stories from live journal and ff.net onto AO3, and this is one of the unfinished ones. I don't want to delete it because I still live under the insane idea that I may finish it at some point before I shuffle off this mortal coil.

Draco moaned and tipped his head back as his hands went to run through thick black hair. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to arrive in his current position. All he was aware of was that he had been on his way to the food cart when an arm reached out from the carriage he was passing and grabbed him, pulling him inside and slamming the door closed.

He barely had time to register what was happening before he felt a pair of soft lips on his own and his brain stopped trying to tell him to push his attacker as he pulled the other’s Quidditch toned body against his own.

He moaned again, louder this time, when he felt teeth graze against the sensitive skin of Draco’s dick. The mouth surrounding him moved away and it took all of Draco’s self restrain not to whimper at the loss of heat.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were enjoying yourself, Malfoy.”

Draco glared at him. “Shut it, Potter,” he snapped. “Why don’t you put that mouth of yours to use and do something you’re actually good at.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you going to miss this?” Harry asked quietly, looking up at Draco questioningly.

“Miss _what_ , Potter?” Draco replied, sounding exasperated as he thought of his own cock, which was hard and leaking and when he thought of Harry’s mouth, which was so close to his hardened flesh that he could feel the Gryffindor’s breath ghosting over him whenever he exhaled.

“This,” Harry replied. “Are you going to miss me…” he stood up. “Me pulling you into empty classrooms?” he kissed Draco’s neck. “Secret passages?” he placed another kiss on the blond’s neck. “Closets? Are you going to miss me dragging you into train carriages so that I can suck your brain out through your cock before I pin you to the seats and fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me all summer?”

“If I’ll feel you all summer I won’t miss you, will I?” Draco smirked, suppressing the moan that was threatening to escape at the mental image Harry‘s word conjured up.

“You have an answer for everything don’t you, Malfoy?” Harry asked, kissing Draco.

“I suppose I do,” Draco moaned as Harry pushed him on the seats and did exactly as he promised.

***

“Watch it, Potter,” Malfoy snarled as Harry pushed past him roughly. 

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry snapped sharply as he stalked away from the blond to rejoin his friends who were waiting for him further down the platform.

“Do you want me to beat him up, Malfoy?” Crabbe asked, cracking his knuckles as he glared after Harry.

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t waste your energy,” Draco told him, sticking his hands in the pocket of his robes as they made their way to the barrier to the Muggle world. He frowned and pulled out the object that had just appeared in the pocket. _Thought you could use this_. The note read and Draco smirked when he noticed that the object was a white button from his school shirt.

“What’s that, Draco?” Pansy’s voice asked as she slithered into the space next to him.

“Nothing,” Draco replied, stuffing the button and note back into his pocket.

“You keeping secrets from us, Draco?” Pansy accused jokingly, unaware of how accurate her statement was. "Have you got a girlfriend you're not telling us about?"

“Yes, Pansy,” Draco replied deadpanned. “I’ve been seeing someone for six months now. We shag each other every opportunity we get.”

Pansy giggled girly and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Draco,” she laughed. “You’re such a kidder,” she added linking her arm with his.

Draco rolled his eyes, he knew Pansy wouldn’t believe him. He had been telling the truth, he and Potter had been doing - whatever they were doing - since just after school had resumed following the Christmas holidays.

***

As soon as Draco stepped through the barrier he spotted his father waiting for him at the end of the platform. Immediately the familiar feeling of nervousness settled in the blond’s stomach. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous. As far as Draco was concerned there was no need to fear Lucius Malfoy. Draco was well aware of what his father was capable of doing to others if provoked but Draco knew that his father would never dream if hurting his own child and heir. But still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling. 

“Draco,” Lucius greeted once Draco was within hearing range.

“Father,” Draco replied, handing his trunk to the big eared man accompanying Lucius - a man who looked suspiciously like a transfigured house elf.

“I trust you had a good term?” Lucius questioned as he and his son made their way out of Kings Cross Station.

“Yes father,” Draco agreed, slipping into the rear of the limousine through the chauffeur held door.

“Feeling confident about your N.E.W.T.’s?” Lucius asked, slipping into the seat next to Draco.

Again the feeling of nervousness, which had dissipated slightly, inexplicably returned once more. Draco wasn’t sure why but for some reason the tone in Lucius’ voice sent shivers down his spine.

***

As with every magical mode of transportation the limo sped through the streets of London and the countryside too fast for mere Muggles to notice. And before long the car was pulling through the large iron gates which surrounded the manor grounds, the ornate dragon guarding it following the vehicles progress through the gate. 

As the car arrived at the front door to the manor, the doors opened and a heavily cloaked figure exited the house followed by Draco’s mother, Narcissa. The figure, who’s face was hidden by the heavy black material of the cloak, kissed Narcissa’s hand by means of goodbye and turned to face Lucius, who was wearing his way up the stairs followed by Draco.

Lucius didn’t say a word, he merely bowed his head in greeting at the figure. Draco wasn’t sure if the figure returned the gesture, he couldn’t tell, but what he did know was that after seeing Lucius the new comer turned it’s gaze to Draco. Draco shivered involuntarily as he felt the figures eyes wash over his body, taking in the sight of him. Cold washed over him inexplicably and seconds before the other prepared to apparate away Draco could have sworn that he saw red glowing out from underneath the hood.

***

Draco paced his room back and forth nervously trying to figure out who the stranger was. He had asked his father about him but Lucius had waved his hand dismissively, telling Draco not to worry - that he was an old friend of Narcissa’s who had stopped by to say hello. 

But something in Draco’s mind was telling him not to believe what Lucius said. Draco thought he had met all of his parents friends in the past. A stranger appealingly, seemingly out of the blue, seemed a little bit too suspicious for Draco’s liking.

Lucius and Narcissa had disappeared into Lucius’ study shortly after Lucius’ arrival back at the manor. Draco had tried to eavesdrop outside the room, but he couldn’t hear anything that was being said. Presumably, one of them had placed a silencing charm around the room to prevent their conversation being overheard. The lengths which Narcissa and Lucius were going to in order to keep their business secret did nothing to quell Draco’s suspicions.

***

He was running across grass, darkened by the lack of light. Pre-morning dew was dripping from each strand, clinging to the under soles of his shoes as he ran. He paused briefly to regain his breath when he reached the edge of the trees surrounding the grounds. Glancing over his shoulder he saw a few lights flick on in the manor house behind him. It would be soon that they discovered he was missing, which meant that he didn’t have a lot of time. 

He pushed the thick branches apart and continuing running through the dense trees, his wet shoes slipping on the roots and detritus under foot. He was panting heavily, sweat pouring from his forehead, running down his face and soaking into his t-shirt.

It wasn’t far now, he could see the faint light of the village at the bottom of the hill. If he could just make it off of the grounds, he knew he would be safe. Only a little bit further.

He glanced over his shoulder quickly to check he wasn’t being followed. Suddenly his foot caught on a tree root, he could only presume as it was so dark, causing him to fall forwards and land on the earth with a hard thud.

***

Miles away, in a small back bedroom Harry James Potter sat bolt upright. His head spun from the jolt from the sudden change in positions. 

He grabbed his glasses and looked at the luminous numbers of his alarm clock. It was one o’clock in the morning. Sighing, he took his glasses off and tossed them back on the bedside table before throwing himself back into a lying position.

Rubbing his hands over his face he tried to recall his dream, but all he could remember was the incredible urgency to get as far away from the large manor house as possible so that they wouldn’t find him. It had been too dark in the dream to make out who the person had been, the only thing he knew was that the person had seemed strangely familiar.

Harry’s mind tried to work out who it was but as he fell back to sleep he soon forgot the troubling dream.

***

 


	2. Chapter 2

They were starting to tire of looking for him, Draco could tell from where he was well hidden in the dense trees on the outskirts of the village. He could see their silhouettes against the waning moonlight. It was raining unusually heavily for August and the water was soaking through his clothes, making them cling uncomfortably to his frame.

After what felt like an eternity, he heard an unfamiliar voice recall the others back to the manor. He didn’t dare move for a few moments, not until he was positive that no one would notice him slipping out from between the trees.

Limping slightly, from the pain he felt in his hip from when he tripped, Draco continued making his way down the hill. Trying to stick as close to the tree line as possible was difficult but Draco didn’t want to chance being seen and someone hexing him from behind. He was starting to tire. His leg muscles ached from running so fast over such a large distance, but he didn’t dare pause to rest himself just in case there were still some of his fathers  _friends_ lying in wait, ready to trap Draco should he lower his guard.

As soon as Draco was at the bottom of the hill he wracked his brain about what his next course of action should be. His first thought was that he should apparate to Diagon Alley but then he realised that he didn’t know how to apparate yet and he didn’t really like the idea of splinching himself. He couldn’t make a portkey, that was far too advanced for him. Which meant that the Knight Bus was his next alternative. It wasn’t his favourite mode of transportation but he knew that he didn’t have any other alternative if he wanted to get as far away from Malfoy Manor as possible.

Sighing he reached out his wand arm and a few seconds later there was a loud bang followed by a loud roar of an engine. Almost instantaneously a purple three decked bus came tearing through the darkness, almost blinding Draco with the brightness of its head lamps.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport -,” a spotty young man started to say but Draco waved his hand, silencing him. Before Draco could say a word he heard someone’s voice shout from behind them and he spun around, just time to see a shadowy figure raise his wand.

Draco leapt forward, pushing Stan to the ground, seconds before a red beam of light flew over their heads. “Take me to Diagon Alley,” Draco instructed Stan, shoving him onto the bus just as another spell, this one green, went sailing past Draco - his attacker very clearly didn’t have very good aim while he was running.

Stan didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled, struggling to regain his footing as he stuttered instructions to the driver. The bus lurched forward and Draco had to fight to keep his food down as his stomach turned due to the sudden acceleration of speed.

Draco watched, with an odd sense of nervousness as the figure of their attacker grew smaller and smaller before disappearing out of his line of sight. “Master Malfoy,” Stan interrupted quietly, seemingly not wanting to disturb Draco’s thoughts.

Draco didn’t bother to ask how he knew who Draco was - he had called the bus not that far away from Malfoy Manor after all - as he turned to face the pock-faced conductor. “Draco,” he said. “My name’s Draco. It’s easier,” he added, feeling oddly like he had to give a reason for what he was saying.

“Draco,” Stan grinned, albeit a bit hesitantly, at him, “what happened back there?” he demanded.

Draco sighed. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he insured Stan.

“They attacked our bus,” Stan reminded him. “I think that’s something we need to worry about.”

“They weren’t after you,” Draco said quietly. “They were after me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. “This enough to get me to Diagon Alley?” he asked, placing the coins in Stan’s hand.

“But why were they after you?” Stan inquired, looking after Draco as the blond made his way to the stairs.

“I’m in big trouble,” Draco replied quietly, shaking his head before ascending the stairs. “Very big trouble.”

Draco could only remember being on the Knight Bus once before when his mother had taken him to visit his aunt in London when he was five. Narcissa had found it a very primitive way of travelling but Draco had managed to persuade her to try it because he wanted to see the view from the top deck. Draco chuckled under his breath as he swayed with the movement of the vehicle, reaching out to grab a pole to cling onto as he made his way to the available bed that was near the front window. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. At least it had until the bus set off and Draco felt the unpleasant feeling of his stomach doing somersaults inside him. He had to admit though, even if it was only to himself, as he looked out of the window at the rows of street lamps below him, the view was definitely worth it.

***

Trying to think of different name to book into the Leaky Cauldron with had to be one of the most difficult things Draco could think of. As he slowly walked from the Knight Bus to the inn he had dismissed every alias he had managed to think of. Aliases which ranged from ‘Danny Matthews’ to ‘David Potter’ - he realised what he was thinking much too late to get the thought out of his head. He finally decided on Damien Evans. He had no clue where the Evans part came from but for some reason the name had popped into his head and it seemed to fit so he didn’t question it’s origin too much. 

No one really glanced in his direction as he made his way through the inn and asked quietly for a room. If Draco had been recognised by the bartender who showed him to his room, no one said anything to him.

Draco was glad his appearance wasn’t causing much of a stir yet. He knew it wouldn’t be long before his attacker - the Death Eater - relayed the message of Draco’s departure on the Knight Bus to Lucius, if he hadn’t been informed already, and then Draco knew it would only be a matter of time before someone came looking for him to take him back home.

Draco didn’t really know what he should do next but he knew that come morning, he would definitely need to get some money and think of a disguise because there was no way he was allowing anyone to take him back to Malfoy Manor so that he could suffer his fathers wrath.

Throwing himself gracelessly down on the large double bed, Draco sighed as he felt the weariness of the past twelve hours catch up with him. As he closed his eyes he swore to himself that as soon as he woke up he would head to Gringotts, get some money then take it from there.

***

Harry sighed in annoyance and threw his rag into the bucket, not caring that water had just sloshed out of the bucket and soaked into his jeans. He wiped his hand across his forehead, grimacing at the sweat he felt on his skin. 

Aunt Petunia had told him to clean all the exterior windows on the house. The fact that it was one of the hottest days of the summer had apparently escaped her notice.

Harry’s back ached from the chores he had been doing all day and somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn’t help wishing that Draco was there. The blond Slytherin had the softest touch of anyone Harry knew. Harry froze when he realised that he had been imaging Draco’s hands on his shoulders, massaging the aching muscles in Harry’s back. He shook his head, trying to shake some sense back into himself.

“What the hell are you thinking, Potter?” he questioned, stretching out some more kinks in his back before picking up the rag and resuming his task. “All thoughts of Malfoy are strictly related to school time. Malfoy goes to Hogwarts and that’s where all thoughts of him stay,” he told himself sternly.

***

Draco stirred a few hours after falling asleep. He hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning, slipping in and out of consciousness all night long. When he eventually did fall asleep it felt like it was only a few moments until he woke up again. Draco’s sleep filled brain couldn’t figure out what had woke him at first until he heard it again. There was an insistent tapping on the window and Draco saw that the cause of the commotion was a tawny owl carrying a letter. 

Draco hesitated, knowing that the letter was more than likely from his father - who was more likely to send a regular letter than a howler. Howler’s were too public and made your business everyone else’s, according to Lucius. However, when the owl refused to go away and continued tapping Draco reluctantly opened the window and allowed the owl to fly into the room. The bird deposited the letter on the desk before flying away through the open window.

Draco slowly made his way to the desk and glanced nervously down at the envelope, not wanting to get too close just in case it was booby trapped and rigged to explode or something.

He immediately recognized the hand writing on the front as his fathers and, already having a feeling what the letter was about, he carefully tore it open and pulled the parchment out.

_Draco,_

_How dare you defy me the way you did?_

_Not only did you embarrass myself and your mother, you put both our lives in jeopardy._

_Thankfully our guest understood that we had no control over the way you act._

_We have discussed it thoroughly and have decided that it is in your best interests to return to the manor immediately._

_If we hear nothing from you in three hours someone_ will _arrive to bring you home._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco dropped the letter onto the desk. He had never thought that his father and mother would have been in danger because of his actions. He knew that when Lucius made a threat he would most certainly be carrying it out. Draco knew that he had to move fast because there was no way he was allowing Lucius, or anyone, to take him back to the manor, where he knew what was waiting for him.

Looking in the mirror, Draco sighed as he took in his appearance. With his platinum blond hair he was going to be easily recognizable as a Malfoy and would most likely stick out in the crowds of Diagon Alley. Knowing that there was nothing he could do to cover up his appearance, he ran his fingers through his hair - telling himself that once he had been to Gringotts, the first thing he was going to buy was a comb and hair products.

His fingers went around the back of his neck, unfastening the necklace with the Malfoy family crest on it. As soon as the necklace was removed from his neck, his head snapped back, his eyes closed. Draco was unaware of it - he was seemingly unconscious - a bright white light burst out of the blond’s chest, heading upwards towards the ceiling. Almost as soon as it had started the light disappeared and Draco’s eyes flickered open.

Frowning in confusion Draco looked at his reflection in the mirror and he almost screamed when he saw what was looking back at him. His actual face didn’t look different, the thing that had shocked him was that his hair was now light blond and his eyes weren’t their usual grey, instead they were bright blue. “What the hell?” Draco muttered, leaning closer to the mirror as if he was inspecting whether the mirror was lying and playing a trick on him. He reached up with his hand and attentively fingered the brown strands, his eyes widening when he saw that the mirror him copied his movements. “Well that’s handy,” he muttered to himself, as he stepped away from the mirror. He still wasn’t sure what had happened but he figured if his new look helped him blend in with the crowd he might as well take advantage of it.

Grabbing the only other things in the room that he owned - his wand and the necklace - he quickly left the room, made his way down the rickety staircase and out into the Alley.

***

Draco found it scarily easy to transfer money out of his personal account and into another account set up in the name of his adopted identity. Between the inn and the bank, Draco had decided that it would be easier for him to continue calling himself Damien Evans - it would be safer that way as well. 

He left the bank with a bag full of galleons dangling from his belt, wondering what shop he should go to first. Quality Quidditch supplies was the closest so he decided to go there first. As he stood outside the shop, looking in the window he saw the reflection of Lucius in the window, walking towards the inn. Not wanting to risk Lucius recognizing him, even with his new appearance, Draco quickly ducked inside the store. He sighed with relief when Lucius walked straight past the store. He thought he had caught a lucky break, until he heard the familiar voices of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. He was caught with an idea when he heard Harry’s voice answer a question Ron must have directed at him.

Draco quietly slipped into the isle for Quidditch protection gear, watching as Hermione and Ron passed the isle heading for the next one. As Harry passed, Draco reached out and grabbed Harry’s arm. “What the-,”

Draco shook his head, “I need your help,” he interrupted.

“Do I even know you?” Harry demanded, wrenching his arm out of Draco’s grasp.

Draco rolled his eyes, he had forgotten that Harry wouldn’t recognize him. He pressed his body against Harry’s pressing the Gryffindor against the shelves behind him, making the shelves rock dangerously, before he kissed Harry passionately. “Recognize me now?” Draco asked breathlessly after he pulled back.

“Malfoy?” Harry whispered, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in Draco’s appearance. “What happened?” he asked.

Draco shook his head. “I can’t explain here,” he replied. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked, walking down the isle, followed by Ron. Both of them stopped dead when they saw Draco stood so close to Harry.

“Who are you?” Ron asked bluntly, looking at Draco.

“Guys, this is,”

“Damien Evans,” Draco interrupted. “I’m Harry’s boyfriend,” he grinned, leaning even closer to Harry who was looking at him in horror.

“Boyfriend?” Hermione repeated in surprise, looking between Draco and Harry. Ron looked too shocked to say anything. “Harry, when were you planning on telling us?” she questioned.

“Harry has wanted to tell you for ages,” Draco answered for Harry. “I was the one that was too nervous to admit it. But I thought I owed it to him to let you guys know about us,” he smiled sweetly at Harry, who still seemed shocked.

Hermione blinked in shock. “Oh well,” she mumbled, “it was nice to meet you, Damien. Come on, Ron,” she grabbed the red head’s arm, “I need to get a new book,” she added, dragging him out of the store.

“What the hell was that about, Malfoy?” Harry hissed as Draco led him out of the store, following Ron and Hermione. He figured it was safer for him to stick with the Gryffindors - as much as he loathed them.

“I can’t tell you now,” Draco whispered, out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll tell you later, in your room. When it’s just you and me.”

“You’re not staying in my room, Malfoy,” Harry argued.

“For starters it’s Evans now,” Draco informed him, “and you’d better call me Damien in front of everyone else otherwise people are going to start to wonder why your calling your boyfriend by his last name.”

“You are  _not_ my boyfriend,” Harry snapped.

“Potter, my life is in danger if anyone finds out who I really am,” Draco retorted. “Can you just pretend. Please?”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can humour you until I know what the fuck’s going on.”

Draco smiled, genuinely gratefully. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

***

Later that night after Harry had said goodnight to Ron and Hermione, he turned to Draco. But Draco held his hand up and lead Harry down the hallway to the room he had occupied earlier. Just as he predicted the room was completely over turned - Draco could only assume that Lucius had trashed the place because he was mad at not finding Draco. 

When the pair got back into Harry’s room, Harry turned to Draco and demanded. “It’s just us now, Malfoy. Start explaining.”


	3. Chapter 3

"So you're interested in joining our school, Mr Evans?" Professor Albus Dumbledore asked, glancing at Draco over his half moon glasses.  
  
Draco tried not to show how nervous he was really feeling. Ever since the summer the feeling of nervousness had seen to be a regular thing for him to feel. "Yes, sir," he replied. "My mother and father feel like it's time for me to attend school like other people my age. They wanted to send me to Durmstrang, but I persuaded them to allow me to attend Hogwarts."  
  
"Why were you so adamant to attend Hogwarts?" Dumbledore questioned.   
  
"It's closer to home," Draco replied, the lies he had been practicing for the past week easily rolling out of his mouth. "I felt that after such a long time of being home schooled I might feel somewhat homesick attending school so far away." Dumbledore nodded his head, seemingly accepting Draco’s explanation. “My parents couldn’t be here today. They had to go to America for business. They assured me that I was okay to come here on my own.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded his head. “They were correct, Mr Evans. I’m not entirely sure what you know about the way the school works, but there are four different houses, into which students are sorted. This is usually done in front of the rest of the school when the first years arrive…”  
  
Draco paled slightly at the thought of sitting in front of the whole great hall wearing the sorting hat. "Would it be possible to be sorted privately, Professor?" he asked, not needing to fake the nervousness that was seeping into his voice. "Without everyone watching."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, Mr Evans," he assured Draco. "I don't think there should be any problems sorting you here. The first year students are on their way here and the sorting ceremony should begin shortly after their arrival."  
  
"How exactly am I to be sorted, sir?" Draco asked feigning nervousness to make it appear like he didn't know how it worked.  
  
Dumbledore smiled reassuringly, "Don't worry, Mr Evans. It's a very easy and painless process," the old man slowly walked over to the shelf and pulled down the sorting hat. "All we need to do is, put this on your head and it shall choose the house you are best assigned to."  
  
Draco faked a sigh of relief just as the hat was placed on his head and his vision went dark. "Ah," the hat spoke inside Draco's mind, "young Master Malfoy. What a surprise to find you wearing me again after so many years. I see you fear you are in grave danger," the hat continued, "it also appears that you are right."  
  
"I know that, you fool," Draco snapped mentally. "Just hurry up and sort me already."   
  
"When you were eleven I sorted you into Slytherin house, you had everything required to make the perfect Slytherin. You were cunning, ambitious, determined. You've changed so much. You still have these qualities, most certainly, they will always be a part of you but now I see courage and bravery. Courage to stand up to something much greater than yourself and I see great things in your future Mr Malfoy. You now belong in... GRYFFINDOR!" the last word was shouted to the room, as was so loud the paintings on the walls seemed to rattle making their occupants glare at the hat in annoyance.  
  
Dumbledore smiled and removed the hat from Draco head, "There you have it, Mr Evans," he said, his eyes twinkling merrily. "The students are arriving now so I'm afraid I must make my way to the Great Hall to start the school year off. Would you like me to show you the way?" he asked, gathering the hat - presumably to pass on to Professor McGonagall.  
  
"No, thank you, Professor," Draco declined. "I think I can remember the way there from when I was escorted here.”  
  
“Very well, Mr Evans,” Dumbledore said, rising from his seat and shaking Draco’s hand. “There is of course the matter of which classes you are going to take. I suggest we meet tomorrow morning to arrange a schedule.” Draco nodded his head. “Excellent! I’ll see you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, then.”  
  
“Thank you very much," Draco said, before letting himself out of the room.  
  
Once the door was closed, Draco leant against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. While he had been sat under the sorting hat he had been afraid that the hat was going to sort him into Slytherin again. He was reluctant to admit it to himself but he felt safer knowing that he was in the same house as Harry.  
  
He quickly made his way through the familiar corridors, heading towards the Great Hall. There was a sea of students heading into the Great Hall and Draco was easily able to slip into the crowd unnoticed. He had taken several steps towards the Slytherin table before he realised that he was heading in the wrong direction. He turned on his heel and headed over to the Gryffindor table where he could see that Harry and his friends had already taken their seats.  
  
"There room for one more?" Draco asked, trying to sound as friendly as he could towards them.   
  
The look in Harry's eyes clearly told him that he wasn't wanted around there but after hearing Draco’s recall of what happened the night he ran away, Harry suggested that it would be better to play along with the whole idea that Damien was Harry's boyfriend, since Draco had already acted rashly and told Ron and Hermione about them. There was, of course, the fact that once news of Draco Malfoy's disappearance spread around, people would talk. And there was less likely a chance for people to make the connection between Draco's disappearance and Damien Evans' appearance - because no one would even think that Harry Potter would date Draco Malfoy, even if he was in disguise.  
  
Somewhat reluctantly, Harry nodded his head and slid over, allowing Draco to slide into the place next to him. "Shouldn't you be at the Slytherin table?" Harry asked without thinking.  
  
"Why would I do that?" Draco asked, kicking Harry underneath the table. "I'm a Gryffindor. Dumbledore sorted me before the ceremony."  
  
"What makes you say that, Harry?" Hermione questioned, looking at Harry in confusion.   
  
"Just that I reckon that Damien has more Slytherin qualities than Gryffindor ones," Harry told Hermione, glaring at Draco for kicking him. “Always have done.”  
  
"Obviously the hat disagrees with you," Draco replied, turning to look towards Dumbledore who had rose from his seat.   
  
"Welcome back everyone," Dumbledore greeted them. "I trust you're all well rested after the summer. Please join me in welcoming two new additions to our school. First, as we seem to go through more Defence Against The Dark Arts teachers than anyone, please welcome Professor David Brown." Dumbledore indicated to his left to the handsome young man sitting in between professors McGonagall and Snape.   
  
There was some rather unenthusiastic clapping scattered throughout the hall and Draco could see that, further down the table, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were taking bets - presumably on how long this particular teacher would last.  
  
"Our second new addition is a Gryffindor student," Dumbledore continued, "please welcome Damien Evans. I'm sure all of Gryffindor house will make him feel welcome, as well as the rest of the school."  
  
Draco sank low down in his seat, glaring at Dumbledore, as everyone turned to stare at him. He had hoped his private sorting meant that Dumbledore wasn't going to announce his arrival to the rest of the student body.  
  
Eventually the buzz of a new student died down and everyone looked away from Draco and concentrated on their own meals and catching up with the people they hadn't seen all summer.  
  
As Draco ate his meal he noticed that Harry barely spoke to him. Hermione kept trying to pull Draco into their conversation - obviously trying her best to make him feel welcome - Ron kept looking at him nervously and Harry was doing his best to pretend Draco never existed.  
  
Slowly, so that Harry didn't realise it was coming, Draco slid his right hand underneath the table and across Harry’s leg to gently rest on his inner thigh, while Draco continued eating with his left hand. Harry sat bolt upright as he felt Draco's hand on his leg and he glared at the other boy out of the corner of his eye. Draco smiled to himself as he kept eating, as if he wasn't doing anything. He felt Harry relax under his touch when Draco didn’t move. When Harry had relaxed completely, Draco moved his hand further up Harry’s thigh so that his fingers brushed lightly over Harry’s crotch.  
  
Harry dropped his fork and it landed with a clatter on his plate. “Harry, are you okay?” Hermione asked in concern.  
  
“I’m fine,” Harry assured her, pushing his plate away from him. “I’m just tired. Think I’ll go back to the dorm and crash.”  
  
“I’m going to stay for a bit longer, mate,” Ron said, shovelling some more food into his mouth.  
  
“Mind showing me to the tower?” Draco asked, looking up at Harry innocently.  
  
“Sure,” Harry agreed, grabbing Draco by the wrist and pulling him out his seat.  
  
Neither boy was entirely sure how they managed to get to Gryffindor tower without stripping each other naked but when they did arrive back their clothes were quickly stripped and they fell to the bed kissing passionately.  
  
The preparation was short and fast, they knew that they didn’t have long until their roommates would arrive back at the tower and, while Ron knew about them, Harry didn’t want anyone else to know. A few well angled thrusts of Draco’s cock inside Harry was all it took to send the black haired Gryffindor over the edge and he was coming with a shout, Draco’s name on his lips.  
  
Harry was still trying to catch his breath when they heard the sounds of other Gryffindor’s arriving back from the feast. “Where did the bed come from?” Harry asked in confusion, only then noticing that there was an extra bed in the room.  
  
Draco shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. House elves must have brought it up,” he said making his way over to the aforementioned bed. “Oh, by the way Potter. My name’s Damien.”  
  
“What?” Harry asked in confusion.   
  
“You screamed ‘Draco‘,” the blond explained, ignoring Harry‘s protest that he didn‘t scream. “In case it slipped your attention, I’m dead if anyone finds out who I really am. The name’s Damien, okay?”  
  
Harry nodded his head, closing the curtains and falling back on to the bed. Looking up at the canopy above his bed he found himself thinking about what it would be like to fall asleep with Draco in his arms for once.


	4. Chapter 4

The third year Ravenclaws were the first year to have Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Brown. None of them would say anything about their lesson, just that Professor Brown was the most interesting teacher they had had for a long while.

Brown was nowhere in sight when the seventh year Gryffindor’s piled into the room. As soon as they had taken their seats the door to the office opened and Brown stepped into the classroom.

“Good morning,” Brown greeted, walking over to his desk and standing in front of it, looking at the students. “As you’re all aware, my name is Professor Brown,” he introduced himself. “You will find that I have slightly different teaching methods from most teachers. We have two lessons a week, one will be spent having a discussion about the Dark Arts and defence against them. The second will be spent practising and perfecting your magical talents. Understand?” he asked. The class nodded his head and he continued.

“The Dark Arts are spells that are classed as potentially dangerous. Many of these spells are illegal and therefore, I am unable to demonstrate for you. But I have a question for you. Who thinks that casting Dark Arts are illegal, no matter what the circumstances?” A few students nervously raised their hands. “Miss Granger,” Brown called up on Hermione. “Would you care to explain why you think that way?”

“The Dark Arts hurt people,” Hermione replied simply.

“That they do,” Brown agreed. “Who is your best friend?” Hermione indicated to Harry. “Would you feel the same way if Mr Potter’s life was in danger and the only way to save him would be to use magic that people class as Dark Magic?” Hermione opened her mouth before frowning, for once unsure of the answer. “You see there is a very fine line between what is right and what is wrong. I’m probably not the first person to say this to you, but this world is not black and white. Good and evil. There are many things that exist that are more shades of grey than the British skies. There are some instances where you have to do the wrong thing to save people. You might even have to kill one person to save a hundred people’s lives.

“It is not just magical  _acts_ that can be either good or evil. There are certain  _abilities_ that some wizards possess that others class as evil. The best way to explain what I mean is to give examples. I can think of two good examples. The best being Lord Voldemort,” the class collectively flinched. “In my classroom, there will no flinching at that name,” Brown instructed, sitting on the corner of his desk and looking at the class. “A  _name_ is not to be feared. The person may be, but his name is not evil. There will be no addressing him as ‘The Dark Lord’ or ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ in this room. It will be Voldemort, nothing else. Understand?” he questioned.

The members of the class nervously looked at each other before they nodded uncertainly. Professor Brown smiled. “Good,” he said before continuing with what he had been saying. “Voldemort possess the gift of parseltongue. This is classed as a dark ability because Salazar Slytherin also had the ability. Slytherin is believed to be evil by the majority of the Wizarding world, but people only remember Slytherin in his later life. Before this school was created Godric Gryffindor and Slytherin were the best of friends. They were in separable. They might as well have been brothers they were so close. They both believed that young wizards and witches needed to be educated properly, then as a result of argument their friendship was destroyed.

“Everyone assumes that Slytherin left the school because he and the other founder disagreed about which students should be admitted to the school.”

“You don’t think that?” Dean called out.

Professor Brown looked surprised that someone had interrupted him but didn’t take any house points off of them like most other teachers would, he merely smiled and shook his head. “No I don’t, Mr Thomas. I do understand how some could think that, but if you look at it another way. They had almost finished building the castle when Gryffindor and Slytherin fell out with each other. They had already built areas where students from their own houses would live. Each founder had informed the sorting hat what traits they were looking for, there was no reason for something like bloodlines to cause Slytherin to hate Godric so.”

“But what about the Chamber of Secrets?” Draco asked suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him, shocked the new guy would do such a bold thing as to speak up in class.

Professor Brown smiled to himself. “That’s a very good question, Mr Evans. I believe that Slytherin created the chamber after the argument. I’ve been over the books and papers about the history of the castle and no one can put a specific date to when the chamber was built. While a giant serpent may seem a bit extreme for a hidden chamber, at the time it probably seemed to be the most logical choice to Slytherin. How many of us had wished that they could get one over on their enemies?” The entire class remained silent. “Exactly. That is why I believe that any talent or ability can be used for evil or good. It is merely up to the individual who is using the magic.”

“Who’s the other example?” Harry asked.

Brown’s smile was more noticeable this time. “That, I am afraid, will have to wait until our next lesson,” he replied as a bell sounded, informing then that the class was over. “Homework,” he added as he students started putting their books away. He laughed when the class collectively groaned. He pointed his wand at the blackboard and green writing appeared on the black background. “Your boyfriend/girlfriend has been kidnapped. You have no idea where they’re being held. When you find the place you find that the only way in is past a dozen guards and half a dozen magical creatures, through a maze of tunnels and passage ways. You are armed with nothing but your wand,” he read aloud as the class scribbled it down. “I want each of you to write me a detailed essay about how you would find them and how you would get them out of the room, which spells you would use and how.”

“He’s different from most teachers,” Ron observed as they headed towards the door after the class.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You mean because he actually knows what he’s talking about?” he asked.

“I think Ron’s right,” Harry said, glancing back over his shoulder at Brown who was sitting at his desk, furiously scribbling something onto a piece of parchment. “There’s something about him. I can’t figure out what though,” he mused. 

***

Harry bit his lip as he focused on the paper in front of him. He had been trying to focus on writing the essay for Professor Brown but he couldn’t focus on it. 

He hadn’t told anyone but he agreed with Draco about the topic Professor Brown had brought up in class. He knew that given half the chance he  _would_ use the Dark Arts to save his friend’s lives. If he was being completely honest with himself he knew that if Draco got into that kind of situation, he would do the same for him.

 _‘I wonder when I started agreeing with Malfoy,’_ Harry thought to himself as he dipped his pen into the ink and started to right.

“Glad you finally admit I’m right,” Draco’s voice said as he entered the common room.

Harry looked up in surprise, causing a drop of ink to splatter onto the parchment. “What did you just say?” he demanded.

“I said,” Draco sighed, “that I’m glad you finally admit I’m right about something. What the hell’s wrong with you now?” he rolled his eyes.

Harry put his pen down on the table in front of him and stood up. “Dr-Damien,” he said softly, crossing the room and standing in front of Draco, “I didn’t say anything out loud,” he whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

“What?” Draco demanded of Harry after the Seeker’s admission.

“I didn’t say anything out loud,” Harry repeated, his surprised expression mirroring Draco’s own.

“You had to have done,” Draco retorted, stalking away from Harry and heading over to the desk. “How would I have known what you said?” he asked, picking up Harry’s essay.

“What do you think I  _did_ say?” Harry asked. “Just humour me,” he begged when Draco turned to look at him incredulously.

“You were wondering when you started agreeing with me,” Draco sighed. “Only you referred to me as Malfoy,” he whispered quietly.

“How the hell?” Harry whispered walking over and taking his essay out of Draco’s hands. “Get off that,” he said, rolling the parchment up and slipping it into his backpack. “You’re not copying it.”

“Why would I want to?” Draco rolled his eyes. “If anything you should be wanting to copy mine, since I’ve already finished it.”

“Really?” Harry asked in surprise, he had only just  _started_ his essay.

Draco just shook his head in annoyance.  _’I actually care about passing this year,’_ he thought to himself.

“I care about passing as well,” Harry snapped.

Draco froze and they turned to face each other. “What the fuck is going on here?” Draco demanded, putting his hands on his hips.

“I have no idea,” Harry answered, gathering his books and shoving them into his bag. “I’m going to head to the library to see if I can find out what’s happening,” he told Draco.

“Potter,” Draco reached out and grabbed Harry’s arm, “Harry,” he amended softly, pulling Harry closer. “It’s twelve o’clock. There is no way you’d be able to get into the library this late.”

“I have my ways,” Harry smirked.

“Fine, how about you come upstairs with me and let me screw you into the mattress?” Draco suggested, kissing Harry passionately.

Harry grinned and dropped his bag onto the floor. He wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him closer, grinding their hips together. “I think the library can wait until the morning,” he smirked. “Although it’ll be  _me_ screwing  _you_ into the mattress.  _Not_ the other way around,” he added as he dragged Draco up the stairs to their dorm room.

***

“Harry!” Ron called just as Harry was leaving the common room a few days later.

Harry sighed and turned to face his best friend as the red head jogged up to him. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Have you seen McGonagall?” Ron asked. “She’s looking for you.”

Harry shook his head. “Did she say why she was looking for me?” he asked.

Ron shook his head. “No. It looked like it was pretty urgent though,” Ron shrugged.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder. “I’ll see if I can find her before I go the library.”

“Why are you going to library on a Saturday?” Ron asked, looking at Harry as if there was something ugly growing off of the side of his head.

“I still have to finish the essay for Brown,” Harry told him, which wasn’t really a lie since he really  _did_ have to finish the essay.

“Good luck, mate,” Ron said, shaking his head in amazement at Harry before the Seeker left the common room.

Harry hesitated, slightly unsure about whether he should go and see McGonagall before or after he had been to the library. His decision was made for him when he heard the Transfiguration professor’s voice call him from behind.

“Professor,” he greeted, turning around to see the Animagus heading towards him. 

“Potter, I’ve been looking for you,” McGonagall said as she stood next to Harry. “There is something I need to discuss with you. Please accompany me to my office,” she said, indicating that Harry should follow her. “Take a seat, Mr Potter,” McGonagall said when they arrived at her office.

Harry nervously sat down in the armchair that was on one side of the desk as the teacher sat down on the opposite side. “Mr Potter, don’t look so worried,” McGonagall smiled reassuringly at him. “There is nothing to be worried about. Everything is going to be fine. The reason I’ve asked you in here is to discuss Quidditch.”

Harry couldn’t help himself, he let out an audible sigh of relief, causing the professor to smile. “As you know, yourself and Mr Weasley are the oldest members of our team now. Obviously you have been on the team far longer than Mr Weasley has and therefore I feel like you would be the most logical choice for this position,” she picked something up off of the desk and reached out to hand it to Harry.

Harry took the object out of her hand and looked at her in surprise. “Quidditch Captain?” he asked, reading the golden text that was printed on the red pin he was holding in his hand. “Me?” he questioned.

McGonagall nodded her head. “I feel there is no reason why you shouldn’t be,” she said. “You’re the most experienced member of the team and I know that the other team members would look up to you and listen to what you have to say.”

Harry was still staring at the badge in surprise, trying to get his head around what was happening. He could believe it but he hadn’t actually thought about Quidditch all summer. He knew that it was weird for him to go one day without imaging himself soaring through the air on his broomstick, but with everything that had happened with Draco over the summer, Quidditch had been pushed out of his mind.

“Mr Potter?” McGonagall’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Do you think that you are okay to take the position of captain?” she asked. Harry glanced down at the badge once more before he slowly nodded his head. “Good,” McGonagall nodded also. “Now, here is the list of dates that all the matches take place. The first match will, of course, be Gryffindor versus Slytherin and it takes place on the first of November.

“I expect you to hold tryouts and choose a new team member. We will need a new chaser, as Katie left the school at the end of last year. I expect you to inform me of who you have chosen as soon as you know. Practices can be held whenever you feel is necessary. As long as the practices don’t interfere with students studies, they can be as frequent as you choose.” Harry nodded his head, showing that he understood what she was telling him. “Very well,” she smiled, “good luck, Mr Potter. And congratulations,” she stretched out her hand towards Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, shaking her hand before letting himself out of the room. He paused on the other side of the door, taking a deep breath as he took in what had just happened. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice said from his side and a hand came to rest on his shoulder, making Harry jump in surprise. “You scared, Harry?” Draco asked, laughing as Harry glared at him. “You were trapped in your own world there,” Draco commented.

“I was just thinking,” Harry said shaking his head.

“What did you find out at the library?” Draco asked, lowering his voice slightly so that no one else would hear him. 

“I never made it to the library,” Harry told him. “McGonagall called me into her office before I even got anywhere near the library.”

“What’d she want you about?” Draco questioned as he followed Harry down the corridor. Harry handed Draco the badge that he was still holding. “Well, that figures,” Draco muttered, handing the badge back to Harry. “Of course they’d award their Golden Boy with the best spot on the team,” he added. He stopped dead in the corridor.

Harry frowned and turned to look back at Draco who was a few feet behind him. “What?” he asked in exasperation. 

“Quidditch,” Draco said quietly. He looked up at Harry, who was looking back at him curiously. “I’m not on the team anymore. Obviously I can’t play for Slytherin as Damien Evans.”

Harry looked at Draco in sympathy. Not only hadn’t he thought about Quidditch all summer, he hadn’t even realised that Draco wouldn’t be able to play anymore. “You could always try out for the Gryffindor team,” Harry suggested.

Draco snorted with laughter. “Even if I  _would_ look good in those red and gold robes, how am I supposed to play? Gryffindor already has a seeker,” he reminded Harry, once again walking in line with the green eyed Gryffindor.

“I know that,” Harry rolled his eyes. “And I also know that there’s no way in Hell I’m giving my position up. But Katie left last year so we’re a chaser short,” he informed the other teenager.

“Chaser?” Draco repeated. “You do know that I haven’t played as a chaser in my entire life, don’t you?”

“Do you want to play or not?” Harry rolled his eyes again.

“Despite the robes,” Draco sighed, “I wouldn’t mind,” he admitted. “But there’s no way I could get on the team, even with you as the captain. I’ve  _never_ played chaser before,” he repeated.

“Which is why we’re going to practice together,” Harry said. “See if you’re any good before you embarrass yourself in front of the entire school,” he added, coming to a stop.

That was when Draco noticed that they were standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. “You brought me out here to practice without broomsticks and wearing jeans?” Draco asked in annoyance.

Harry glared at him and raised his wand. “Accio broomsticks,” he said clearly, focusing intently on two broomsticks that were currently resting in the broomstick cupboard.

A few moments later two similar looking broomsticks came flying through the air. Both boys easily caught them. “You couldn’t have summoned more up to date models?” Draco asked, looking down in disdain at the Comet 260 that was in his hands.

“Shut up, Damien,” Harry snapped. “I couldn’t have summoned mine because it would freak people out.” He paused. “You’d have to try out on one of these anyway. I don’t think you thought to grab yours before you ran from the Manor.”

“Damn,” Draco said sarcastically, mounting the broom. “I knew there was something I was forgetting when I was running for my life. How stupid of me, how could I forget?” he glared at Harry as he kicked of from the ground.

***

Harry growled in annoyance and slammed the book shut. After flying with Draco for a few hours, followed by a killer blow job behind the Hufflepuff stands and an incredibly quick lunch, he had finally managed to make it to the library.

He had taken down almost every book he could find that touched on the subject of Telepathy, no matter how tiny the reference was. But after three hours of scouring through the volumes in front of him, he had come to one conclusion and one alone; each, and every single, book must have been written by the same author, regardless of the name the cover held

They all referred to Telepathy as a form of communication that could only be trigged by the partaking parties casting a simultaneous spell. He knew that neither he nor Draco would even  _want_ to be in each other’s minds, so there was no way that they had cast any kind of spell.

He growled again and pushed a couple of books onto the floor in annoyance. “I wouldn’t let Madame Pince catch you doing that,” Professor Brown chuckled, walking around the desk and sitting on the window ledge that was behind Harry. “I did it during my fifth year here and she wouldn’t let me back in here until a month ago. Until the beginning of term,” he added, glancing out of the window for a second before he turned his gaze back to Harry. “And even then she hesitated. I couldn’t believe she still remembered after ten years,” he shook his head in amazement.

“Ten years?” Harry asked, stooping down to pick up the books he had thrown on the floor. “But that would make you…”

“Twenty-five,” Brown finished for him. “One of the youngest teachers the school has ever had,” he grinned. “What are you researching that’s got you so wound up?” he asked curiously, indicating to the books.

Harry hesitated before replying. “Telepathy,” he admitted.

To his surprise, Professor Brown didn’t look shocked at Harry’s admission. In fact, Harry could have sworn he looked pleased at Harry’s answer. “And I’m assuming you didn’t find what you were looking for?” Harry shook his head. “I wish I could help you Mr Potter,” he smiled, “but it looks like you have every book in this library so if what you’re looking for isn’t in these books, than I doubt I can tell you anything more.”

“Professor?” Harry asked. “In class, when you were telling us about Voldemort. You said there was another example of people’s abilities being classed as evil. But you never told us who the other person was.”

Brown grinned back at him and hopped off of the desk. “You’re the only person in the class that has remembered about that, Mr Potter,” he said, patting Harry on the shoulder as he passed. “Stay behind after class tomorrow and I’ll continue with my story.”

Harry nodded his head in agreement as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor left him alone in the library to put away the books that had not been of any use to him.

***

When they arrived at Professor Brown’s classroom the next day, they found that their desks were now stacked against the far wall and all the chairs had been arranged in a circle so that everyone was facing each other.

“Come in,” Professor Brown said from where he was perched on the top of a pile of three desks. “Take a seat,” he instructed indicating to the chairs as the rest of the class filed in.  
“Okay, this is weird,” Ron commented, sitting down in between Harry and Hermione.

“Not really,” Harry replied, kicking his bag under his chair. “If you think about it, this layout makes more sense.”

“It’s better if you’re having a debate to be able to see each other properly,” Draco agreed from where he was sitting on the other side of Harry.

“Right,” Professor Brown said, magically closing the door from where he was sitting. “Now that we’re all here we can begin. I hope you all remembered to bring your homework, which I will collect at the end of the lesson. If you haven’t, no house points will be taken and no detentions will be given but it will, however, be noted in my records, which I will base your overall grade on. So I’d say that it’s a good idea to do any homework I set you.”

He jumped down off of the desks, landing perfectly on the ground without losing his footing or balance at all. “I think I would be right in assuming that you’ve all noticed a change in the arrangement of my classroom. I mean, you don’t have to be an Auror to notice that.” A few people in the room laughed lightly as Brown continued speaking. “I made such a decision for two reasons. The first being, that having a debate is more fun when everyone can see who they’re speaking to. And the second, this way we have room to practice our Defence spells during our practical lessons.”

Brown moved to where his desk was pushed up against the blackboard. “Our first few discussions will be regarding magical abilities,” Brown said, sitting on the centre of his desk, his legs folded under him as if he were about to meditate. “Mr Evans,” Brown said, looking towards Draco. “Off the top of your head, give me a magical ability,” he instructed.

The entire class turned to look at Draco, who tried desperately not to flinch under the scrutiny as he was struck with a sudden idea.


	6. Chapter 6

“Guys, I’ll catch you up,” Harry called after Ron and Hermione as he grabbed hold of Draco’s arm. “There’s something I need to talk to Brown about.”  
  
Hermione nodded her head. “Are you coming, Damien?” she asked, looking at Draco.  
  
Draco shook his head. “I’m going to wait for Harry,” he answered as Ron and Hermione left the classroom, as well as everyone else.  
  
“Professor,” Harry said, turning to face Brown.  
  
“Mr Evans, I’m glad you stayed as well,” Brown interrupted, looking at Harry and Draco from where he was still sitting on his desk.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me that there was a book about Telepathy in the restricted section?” was the first thing Harry demanded.  
  
Brown laughed and shook his head, not fazed by Harry’s anger towards him. “I didn’t tell you that there was a book in the restricted section, because there  _isn’t_  anything in there.” He lifted the book up. “This book is from my personal collection. It’s not from the library. I thought the pair of you might find our lesson interesting.”  
  
Before either teenager could say anything the door to the classroom opened. “Dave?” a man asked as he entered the room. “Oh,” he said, stopping abruptly as he saw Harry and Draco in the room as well. “Sorry.”  
  
Brown looked up and grinned at the newcomer. “You’re early,” he chided, looking at his watch.  
  
“Yeah,” the other man shrugged. “Managed to get off work early. I can come back later if you’re busy,” he offered.  
  
Brown shook his head and waved the man into the room. “It’s okay,” he replied, “guys this is Carmine. Car, this is Damien Evans and Harry Potter,” he introduced as the other man sat on Brown’s desk. “I was just about to tell them my story.”  
  
“Not like I haven’t heard  _that_  before,” Carmine said, rolling his blue eyes. “But it’s not like I have anything better to do, so go ahead.”  
  
Brown glared at him for a few moments before Carmine raised his hands in defence. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.  
  
Brown nodded his head before turning back to Harry and Draco. “You remember from our previous lesson that we were discussing Voldemort’s abilities being evil. My second example is actually a Wizard that nobody ever thinks of as evil. Merlin.”  
  
“You’re telling us that Merlin was evil?” Draco asked incredulously.   
  
Carmine laughed loudly. Brown turned to glare at him and Carmine scowled. “I am  _not_  taking the piss,” he retorted, folding his arms across his chest. “Just get on with the damn story,” he instructed.  
  
“Of course Merlin wasn’t evil,” Brown continued. “Merlin was probably the greatest wizard ever to live.” Carmine snorted with laughter, but Brown ignored him. “I can assure you that many people would be appalled to know that Merlin’s descendent attended this school not so long ago and was, in fact, in Slytherin house.”  
  
“The heir can speak Parseltongue,” Carmine interrupted Brown, “just like Merlin could.”  
  
“Are you going to tell this or can I actually continue?” Brown snapped.  
  
“You were taking too long,” Carmine shrugged his shoulders.  
  
“What’s this got to do with magical abilities?” Harry questioned.  
  
“Rumour has it that you’re a Parselmouth, Mr Potter,” Brown said. “That ability is usually connected to evil wizards. Now, correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think that you’re an evil wizard, Mr Potter.”  
  
“And you’re not either,” Carmine spoke up, looking at Brown.  
  
“Wait a second,” Draco said holding up a hand, “are you trying to tell us that you’re a direct descendent from Merlin, himself?” he questioned, pointing at Brown.   
  
“Well I was trying to,” Brown sighed, glaring at Carmine, “but yes, that’s right. Merlin was my great-great-whatever-grandfather. It’s not known to many that he could speak Parseltongue, but he possessed the ability long before Salazar Slytherin even existed. The ability is passed down through each generation, for most people it’s intertwined in our magical DNA - although it has been known to skip generations, it usually shows up in each descendant. The whole point of this, seemingly random conversation, is just to prove my point about abilities being either good or evil. Slytherin was not evil; Merlin wasn’t evil; you’re not evil and neither am I.  
  
“Basically, what I’m trying to explain to the two of you is that every ability and action can be classed as evil in certain circumstances. The choices of the individual are what makes something evil, not the actual action itself.”  
  
***  
  
A few hours later Harry and Draco left Brown and Carmine in the classroom, after a lengthy discussion about Telepathy and various other magical talents.  
  
“Okay,” Draco said when he and Harry arrived on the seventh floor, “why have you brought me up here?” he asked, looking on in surprise as he watched a door materialise in the wall in front of Harry.  
  
“Welcome to the Room of Requirement,” Harry answered, opening the door and stepping aside to let Draco into the room.  
  
“And what exactly is the Room of Requirement?” Draco asked, looking nervously through the door before following Harry into the room.  
  
“A room that aims to give you whatever it is you need,” Harry shrugged, closing the door and glancing around the room.  
  
“And you needed a king size bed?” Draco asked, a smirk on his face as he turned to face Harry.  
Harry felt a blush rise in his cheeks. “I thought it might come in handy at some point,” he shrugged. “Right,” he said, getting back on track. “What was it that Brown said about Telepathy?”  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. “God, it wasn’t that long ago,” he sighed. “He said that, even though it’s very rare, two powerful wizards can create a telepathic link between them without casting any kind of spell.”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, remembering the lesson earlier that day. “And it’s a powerful link that is usually shared between people extremely close to each other,”  
  
“For example, two people who are having sex,” Draco interrupted indicating to them both.   
  
“And that link is very difficult to break,” Harry finished. ‘How do we activate it?’ he wondered to himself.  
  
“I think it’s already active, Harry,” Draco rolled his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What does it feel like when you send a message to me?” he asked quietly after a few moments.  
  
Harry frowned as he focused on remembering what it felt like. “Like I’m… not, whole. But… content. Like… being linked to you is what I want,” he shyly admitted. “It’s weird. It feels exactly like Brown said it would, but I can’t explain it.”  
  
“How do you reckon he knows so much about what it feels like if it doesn’t explain it in any book?” Draco asked. “You don’t suppose him and Carmine are…”  
  
“It would explain the ‘silent’ arguments they kept having,” Harry shrugged. “So, if he got the way it feels right, maybe he was right about everything else as well.”  
  
“You mean, you want to know if we can tap into each other’s abilities?” Draco asked. Harry nodded his head. “There’s only one way to find out,” he said, waving his wand.  
  
Harry watched as a snake appeared in the centre of the room. “So you decided to conjure a snake?” Harry demanded, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at Draco.  
  
“What?” Draco asked defensively. “It’s in a cage,” he pointed out.  
  
 _‘What’s going on?’_  Harry heard the snake ask, looking at them through the cage.  
  
 _‘It’s okay,’_  Harry hissed in response.  _‘We’re just trying to figure something out,’_  he added, glancing at Draco, whose eyes were wide in surprise. “What?” he asked, easily switching back to English.  
  
“I think Brown was right,” Draco said softly.  _‘I understood every word you said,’_  he hissed softly.  
  
Harry felt his own eyes widen in surprise. “Wow,” he whispered. He waved his own wand and the snake disappeared. “That’s pretty cool.”  
  
“Pretty cool?” Draco repeated. “It’s more than that. You heard what Brown said, it’s only the really powerful wizards that can tap into each others powers like that. So if we’re powerful on our own, imagine what we’re going to be like when we’re fighting with each other,” he grinned. “To defeat Voldemort.”  
  
“Together?” Harry asked, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. “You mean you actually  _want_  to help me defeat Voldemort?”  
  
“Of course,” Draco snapped. “He tried to turn me into a Death Eater, Harry.” He roughly pulled up his sleeve to show the burn mark where Voldemort’s wand had pressed against his skin. “There’s no way I’m passing up a chance at getting revenge. What?” he asked, noticing the look on Harry’s face. “You look like someone’s just told you Quidditch has been cancelled.”  
  
“It’s nothing,” Harry shook his head.  
  
‘Don’t lie to me,’ he heard Draco’s voice echo in his head.  
  
“That’s cheating.” Draco just smirked. “It’s just… I never told you, but that night… when you ran away from the manor, I had a dream about you. Well, it wasn’t about you… it was more like, I was you. I could see everything through your eyes. I could hear everything that was being said; smell everything; see everything. I could even feel his wand on your arm.”  
  
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Draco demanded.  
  
“Because I forgot it as soon as I woke up,” Harry replied. “Until you arrived in Diagon Alley. I didn’t tell you then because I thought it was impossible; that there was no way in Hell I would be able to see things from your point of view. But I’m assuming it’s got something to do with this link.”  
  
“Maybe that’s when everything started?” Draco suggested.  
  
Harry shrugged, “Maybe,” he agreed. “Come on, Quidditch tryouts are in half an hour.”  
  
***  
  
Why Harry thought he could be the Captain of the Quidditch team he had no idea. Almost every member of the house, from the second year upwards, turned up to tryout. He had no idea how they were going to get through everyone in one day.  
  
 _‘Still think I stand a chance?’_  Draco’s voiced echoed in Harry’s head.  
  
Harry looked up and glanced around, trying to see if he could spot Draco. But in the sea of people there was no way he could make him out from where he was sitting in the stands with Ron, Ginny and the rest of the team.  
  
 _‘Where are you?’_  he asked as he jotted down some notes on the blonde sixth year that was flying then.  
  
 _‘Slytherin stands,’_  Draco replied.  _‘Is this nearly over with yet?’_  
  
 _‘Seventh years are up… now,’_  Harry told him and Ron motioned for the seventh years to take the pitch.  _‘Good luck.’_  
  
Harry watched as Draco flew this way and that, easily managing to catch and pass the Quaffle correctly each time he received it.  
  
“Damien’s really good,” Ron remarked under his breath, leaning closer to Harry so that he could hear.  
  
“Yeah,” Harry replied absentmindedly. “He is, isn’t he?”  
  
***  
  
“When will the results of tryout’s be posted?” Draco asked Harry as they sat alone in the common room that night.  
  
Harry had been so exhausted from having to make a decision that he didn’t have any energy to do anything more than sit by the fire and eat the snack Draco had brought for him. Draco had been down in the great hall when Hermione realised that Harry wasn’t with them. So, deciding to play the loving boyfriend, Draco had grabbed a sandwich and offered to take it up to Harry.  
  
“Next week,” Harry answered, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “We’ve already decided, more or less, but we need to let McGonagall know before we tell anyone else.”  
  
Draco scowled and looked at Harry almost pleadingly. Harry shook his head. “You’ll find out next week when everybody else does,” he told the other boy.  
  
Draco scowled at him and the portrait door opened and Ron came running through. “Harry, have you heard about what’s happened to Draco Malfoy?” Ron asked, running across the room towards them. He stopped on the other side of the coffee table, clutching his ribs as he gasped for breath.  
  
“Malfoy?” Harry asked in surprise. It took every ounce of will power in him not to glance at Draco, who he had felt stiffen next to him. “What about him, Ron?” Harry sighed. “Malfoy didn’t come back after the summer. Everyone assumes he went to Durmstrang. He’s old news.”  
  
“Not anymore,” Ron replied, shoving  _The Daily Prophet_  into Harry’s hands. “Auror’s found him a few miles outside of London. He didn’t go to Durmstrang. He’s dead, Harry.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You know what’s going on, don’t you?” Draco asked Harry later that night. Everyone had already retired to bed before Harry had snuck out of his own bed and into Draco’s. He had been surprised to find the new Gryffindor awake, alert and reading a book. “This is Lucius’ fault,” he added.  
  
Harry didn’t question Draco’s use of his father’s given name. Over the past few month’s Harry had noticed that Draco had stopped referring to the elder Malfoy as his father. “How do you suppose he did it?” he asked, not having to worry about being overheard by their dorm mates; Draco had cast a permanent silencing charm around his bed at the very beginning of the year.  
  
“I’ve been going over this newspaper clipping that Weasley gave us earlier,” Draco replied, “it turns out the body wasn’t discovered by Aurors. Muggles found it and the investigation was handled by the Muggle police. It says that the body was cremated before the Magical world got wind of what had happened. My best guess is that Lucius killed a random Muggle and identified him as me.”  
  
“Why do you think he did that, though?” Harry asked. “Everyone thought you’d left the school. No one knew that you’d turned ‘traitor’.”  
  
“It was a message to me,” Draco sighed, falling back onto the pillows with a frustrated sigh. “He knows that I’m hiding somewhere; he obviously hasn’t realised I’m hiding in plain sight. If I know him as well as I think, he killed ‘me’ to warn me that I’d be next,” he finished with a yawn.  
  
“You know he won’t get you, don’t you?” Harry asked, moving to lay next to Draco.  
  
“What makes you so sure about that?” Draco questioned, looking up into Harry’s green eyes. “He almost had me during the summer.”  
  
“Yes, but then you were alone and we didn’t know what was happening,” Harry argued. “Now there are two of us and we have an advantage,” he trailed off, finishing the sentence telepathically,  _‘remember?’_  
  
Draco laughed and shook his head, another yawn threatening to break through. “Get some sleep,” Harry whispered, hesitating for a second before pulling Draco into his arms. “We’ll figure something out in the end.”  
  
 _‘Normally I would complain about being treated like a girl,’_  Draco thought as he yawned widely, setting back against Harry’s chest.  _‘But, right now, I’m too tired to care,’_  he added before he fell into a peaceful sleep.  
  
***  
  
“Out of the way, people. Out of the way!” Ron called as he weaved his way in and out of the people that were gathered impatiently in front of the notice board in the Gryffindor common room. “Tryout results!” he added as he tacked the piece of parchment that he was holding.  
  
As soon as the results were on the board, people were pushing Ron out of the way to read what was written. “Whoa,” Ron exclaimed as he rejoined Harry and Draco on the couch. “They’re animals.”  
  
“They’re just anxious to see if they made the team,” Draco said quietly, not looking up from the book he was reading.  
  
“Damien,” Ron asked, glancing in Draco’s direction. “Don’t you want to see if you made the team?”  
  
“It’s doubtful,” Draco murmured, still not looking up. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near to have a look,” he added.  
  
Ron looked at Harry who merely shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe he’s too chicken to look,” he suggested, a smirk on his face.  
  
Draco put the book down and glared at Harry. “I am not chicken,” he insisted, standing up from where he was sitting and stalking over to the notice board. Ron and Harry watched as he pushed his way past the people so that he could read the notice.  
  
Harry grinned when Draco span around and stared at Harry in surprise. “Why don’t you go congratulate him?” Ron grinned, patting Harry on the shoulder before the other boy stood up.  
  
“Not what you were expecting to see?” Harry asked as he stepped up to Draco.  
  
Draco grabbed hold of Harry’s arm and pulled him into the stairwell where there weren’t any people to overhear them. “Did you put me on the team?” Draco asked as soon as they were alone.  
  
“Isn’t is what you wanted?” Harry answered with his own question.  
  
“You know it is, but answer my question,” Draco instructed.  
  
“I know what you’re thinking,” Harry replied, “but no, I didn’t. The rest of the team suggested that you were the best flyer out there and I agreed. You’re on the team because you’re good, not because we’re dating.”  
  
“You sure?” Draco asked, frowning slightly.  
  
“I’m positive,” Harry nodded. “Now are you going to shut up and let me congratulate my boyfriend?” he smirked.  
  
“And how were you planning on doing that?” Draco chuckled.  
  
Harry grinned and pulled Draco into his arms.  _‘I can think of a few ways,’_  he thought, pressing his lips against Draco’s.  
  
 _‘I like that idea,’_  Draco replied, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair and pulling him closer.  _‘But I think we should move it upstairs.’_  He pulled away from Harry, gasping for breath. “Unless you want to give the whole house a show.”  
  
***  
  
Harry stretched under the covers. He had no idea what time it was, the heavy curtains that surrounded Harry’s bed blocked out any sunlight. He turned on his side, expecting to find Draco still sleeping. Instead Draco was sitting up, his legs crossed underneath him, the blankets pooled around his waist to reveal his naked chest. “What are you reading?” Harry asked, trying to get a look at what Draco was holding in his hands.  
  
Draco lifted the book slightly so that Harry could see it. “Which broom?” Harry read aloud.  
  
“You didn’t think I was going to play using one of the school’s out of date brooms, did you?” Draco laughed. “I was thinking about a Starburst 3000,” he added.  
  
“Don’t you think that’s a bit risky?” Harry asked. “That’s the newest broom. If the new kid turns up with a broom that expensive people are going to wonder how you can afford it.”  
  
“Not if they get told that my parents were so proud of their only son making the Quidditch team that they bought me it specially. You just don’t want me to have a better broom than you, ‘cause you’re still riding your Firebolt.”  
  
“That’s not the reason,” Harry rolled his eyes. “We’re on the same team now. I just don’t want anyone to realise that you aren’t really dead because it’ll raise some really awkward questions and cause more problems than we need.”  
  
“No one’s going to realise because of a broom,” Draco argued. “I’ve already sent the order off, anyway,” he added, shrugging his shoulders. “It says that it’ll arrive in five to seven working days,” Draco pointed to what was written in small print on the bottom of the page.  
  
“What?” Harry asked. “No fancy attachments?” he said sarcastically, taking the brochure off of Draco and thumbing through it himself.  
  
“No,” Draco said as if he was talking to a small child, “because then people really would figure out who I really am,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Man, you can be slow sometimes,” he laughed, taking the brochure back off of Harry.  
  
***  
  
Harry sighed silently as he looked from his notes, to his textbook and back. He already knew the stuff they were learning about, sitting through a lecture on something he knew off of the top of his head was very dull for the Gryffindor.  
  
 **‘Cheer up,’**  a voice said in Harry’s ear suddenly as Harry felt something slither over his shoulder.  
  
Harry dropped his quill in surprise and glanced out of the corner of his eye. He could see a pale yellow snake curling around his neck and slithering down his arm, there was a dark blue circular pattern on it’s back.  
  
A few girls on the other side of the room almost screamed when they saw the snake. Draco looked up at Harry and smirked at the surprised look on his face.  _‘Looks, like you‘ve got a friend,’_  Draco commented.  
  
Brown looked up from the papers he was marking and frowned. “What’s going on?” he questioned.  
  
“There’s a snake attacking Harry,” Parvati answered hysterically, pointing across the room at Harry and the snake.  
  
Brown’s gaze travelled across the room and he laughed lightly. “It doesn’t look like Mr Potter is being attacked, Miss Patel,” he shook his head. “However, bringing a snake to class is hardly appropriate, Mr Potter,” he added, his voice turning stern.  
  
“What?” Harry exclaimed. “I didn’t bring a bloody  _snake_  to class,” he protested, a scowl on his face.  
  
“I don’t like doing this, Mr Potter,” Brown sighed, lowering his head, “but, I can’t let one student break rules while everyone else gets in trouble. Join me after class for an hour detention,” he added. Brown whistled loudly and the snake looked up at him. Brown pointed to a corner of his desk. Harry could have sworn that the snake scowled at Brown as it slithered across the room.  
  
 **‘Spoil sport,’**  Harry heard the snake hiss at Brown as it settled on the desk.  
  
“You should still all be studying,” Brown said, looking around the room and seeing that everyone’s eyes were still glued to the serpent. The class collectively nodded their heads before they continued working.  
  
***  
  
“Mr Potter,” Brown said looking at the Gryffindor when they were the only two people in the room. “I’m so sorry about what happened in class.”  
  
“Why did you give me detention when you knew that I didn’t do anything wrong?” Harry demanded as the snake uncoiled itself and slid off the desk.  
  
“Because I couldn’t have everyone knowing that the snake wasn’t really a snake,” Brown sighed, seconds before the snake transformed into Carmine, who was wearing a pair of jeans and a white sleeveless t-shirt, showing a tattoo on the top of his right arm; Harry noticed that it was the same design as what had been on the snake’s back.  
  
“You’re an Animagus?” Harry asked in surprise.  
  
“Well, yes and no,” Carmine laughed as Brown tossed him a shirt.  
  
“Get dressed, will you?” Brown rolled his eyes.  
  
“What? You don’t like it?” Carmine smirked, shrugging the shirt on.  
  
Brown blushed as Harry chuckled under his breath. “I didn’t know that Carmine was still hanging around the castle,” Brown told Harry. “I thought he was in Hogsmeade, which is where he said he was going to be,” Brown glared at Carmine, who shrugged his shoulders.  
  
“I got bored so I decided to come back,” Carmine explained, “when I saw that you were teaching Harry’s class, I thought I’d have a little bit of fun.” The smirk on his face was now turning into more of a grin than an actual smirk.  
  
Brown rolled his eyes, “I swear,” he muttered, “sometimes I actually wonder if you’re younger than me, instead of the other way around.”  
  
Harry looked at them questioningly. “I’m thirty-two,” Carmine told him.  
  
Harry nodded his head as Brown continued speaking. “You don’t have to stay here any longer, Mr Potter,” he informed Harry. “I think you have a Quidditch match to prepare for. Even though I was, and still am, very much a Slytherin, I can’t help think that it’ll be an interesting way to start the competition. It will certainly be interesting to see who the Slytherin’s have chosen to replace their previous Seeker. According to Professor Snape, Draco Malfoy was quite the flyer,” Brown commented and Harry could swear that his eyes were sparkling mischievously.  
  
***  
  
“Alright, listen,” Harry called out from where he was standing in front of the team. Robins, Ginny, Peakes, Coote, Ron and Draco all turned to look at him. “This is our first game, I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but we need to win this match.  
  
“Slytherin are a good team, even without Malfoy, we need to show them that we’re ten times better than they are,” he added. “Just remember what we practised and we should be fine.”  
  
Everyone cheered and piled out of the tent, Harry and Draco in the back. “You think I’m good, do you?” Draco asked quietly.  
  
“You know I do,” Harry smirked as they mounted their brooms, preparing to fly out into the arena. “Oh, you meant good at flying?” he laughed.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head as Madame Hooch blew the whistle, signalling the start of the match.  
  
Harry watched Draco volley the Quaffle between himself and the other chasers for a few moments before he turned his eyes towards the crowd. Brown was sitting at the back of the teacher’s stand with a brown owl perched on his shoulder. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the owl was, in fact, Carmine but he wasn’t sure how it could be him since, as far as Harry knew, Animagi could only turn into one animal - not whichever animal you chose.  
  
Harry glanced around. Slytherin’s new Seeker was a member of the house that Harry had never seen before. In the back of his mind, Harry considered asking Draco if he knew the guy but thought better of it. It would have to wait until after the match, Harry didn’t want to interrupt Draco’s concentration when he was flying so well.  
  
He shook his head, telling himself that he had better concentrate on the game rather than the members of the opposing team. He pushed his glasses further up his nose as he glanced around the pitch, looking for a flash of gold that would give away the Snitch’s position. He sighed and flew down the opposite end of the pitch when he didn’t see anything.  
  
An hour later, Harry was getting bored. The score was level between the two teams and it had been that way for a while. There had been a few glimpses of what Harry thought had been the Snitch; one had been the reflection off of one of the Slytherin player’s watch and the other had been a figment of Harry’s imagination - it was then that he decided that this game had to end soon.  
  
Harry spun around when Slytherin’s Seeker shot past him at lightning quick speed. Harry’s eyes scanned the pitch in front of the Slytherin and immediately saw what the teenager was chasing after. Just when Harry was beginning to wonder if the Snitch had flow off of the pitch, there it was; hovering a few inches off of the green grass below them.  
  
Harry put on a burst of speed, leaning close to the handle of his Firebolt as the broom accelerated. The wind rushing in his ears drowned out the noise of the crowd cheering and the commentary. Harry knew that he had to get to that Snitch before the other Seeker. Both teams were still tied, Harry knew that whoever caught the golden ball would win the match for their team.  
  
Harry’s broom was faster than the other Seeker’s and they were soon neck and neck with each other. The Slytherin inched forward as they got closer to the Snitch. Harry made a grab for it when he thought he was close enough but he missed, coming out with nothing but air. He tried again, but still came up blank. He pulled his broom up when he noticed that the Snitch had disappeared once again. He cursed as he looked around, seeing nothing.  
  
 _‘It’s behind you,’_  Draco’s voice echoed in his head.  
  
Harry started in surprise and spun around. Sure enough the Snitch was behind him, glistening in the sunlight. He didn’t waste any time, he leant closer to his broom, urging it forwards in the direction of the Snitch. It was a few seconds before the Slytherin Seeker realised why Harry was flying so fast in the opposite direction. Harry grinned triumphantly when he swooped up the tiny golden ball as the entire crowd erupted in cheers.  
  
***  
  
The whole common room was filled with people who were cheering and laughing. Harry sat on the bottom step watching as people laughed and joked with each other.  
  
“Hey,” Draco laughed, dropping onto the step next to Harry and thrusting a glass of something sparkly into Harry’s hands. “Why you look so glum?” he asked, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry shrugged him off and looked at him in surprise. Draco pouted at him and leant closer. “Are you drunk?” he asked incredulously.  
  
Draco held his forefinger and thumb about an inch apart. “Just a little,” he admitted, a slight slur behind his words. “It’s the champagne, it’s nice. Try some,” Draco indicated to the glass that was in Harry’s hand.  
  
“I don’t want any,” Harry argued, giving the glass back to Draco.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes and took a large swig of the champagne and pulled Harry closer before he had swallowed it. Draco pressed his lips against Harry’s, allowing the champagne to fall from his own mouth into Harry’s. “See?” he smirked.  
  
“Are you mad?” Harry demanded, wiping away the champagne that had spilled down his chin.  
  
“Relax,” Draco laughed, taking another drink. “People are too drunk to care and even if they do notice they’ll just think we’re both pissed.”  
  
“I think you need to get some fresh air,” Harry said, taking the glass off of Draco and pushing him in the direction of the portrait.  
  
Draco pouted and staggered across the room. “Fine!” he sulked. “But when I get killed because I’m on my own, I’ll make sure I haunt you forever.”


	8. Chapter 8

Draco growled in annoyance and kicked at the ground underneath his feet. He wasn’t drunk; he paused, frowning before admitting to himself that he was a  _little_  drunk.  
  
Draco hated that Harry had pushed him away just because he had had a little bit to drink. It wasn’t Draco’s fault that Harry was boring and didn’t want anything to drink. The coolness of the castle grounds helped clear some of the clouds from his mind. That was when he realised how cold it actually was outside. Draco shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around himself, trying to keep even more of his body heat from escaping.  
  
He was about to turn around and head back into the castle, when he heard a snap of branches in the trees next to him. He let out a small yelp of surprise when a black cloaked figure jumped out in front of him.  
  
“What the fuck! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he demanded, glaring angrily at the other person.  
  
The other person didn’t answer him, or even acknowledge that he had heard what Draco had said. Before Draco could ask who it was they flung their right arm out and Draco had no chance to get out of the way before the knife that was flying through the air plunged into his stomach.  
  
Draco screamed slightly and fell to his knees, his hands clutching the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.  
  
The person came into view again as they leant over Draco, the hood still hiding their face. “I know who you are,” they whispered as Draco gasped for breath. “Who you  _really_ are,” the person added, pressing the knife further into Draco’s body before the blond was swallowed up by welcomed unconsciousness.  
  
***  
  
“Harry,” Ron greeted, joining his best friend on the stairs. “Where’d Damien go?”  
  
“To get some fresh air,” Harry replied with a small shrug.  
  
“Is that safe?” Ron asked. “It’s a bit dangerous to be out after curfew nowadays,” he added.  
  
Harry looked at Ron and sighed. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’ll go see if I can find him,” he said, standing up and leaving the common room.  
  
“Harry,” Professor Brown’s voice called as Harry entered the entrance hall.  
  
Harry turned and grinned at his, now favourite, professor. “Hey, professor,” he greeted.  
  
“I was just on my way out, but I wanted to congratulate you on winning the match earlier. I don’t know how you knew that it was behind you. It was almost like someone  _told_  you.” Harry blushed and looked down. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Brown smirked.  
  
Harry grinned at him. “Thanks, professor,” he replied. “But how did you know that me and Damien can-,” he broke off when a sharp pain shot through his stomach.  
  
Harry fell to his knees with a small shout, clutching at his abdomen. “Harry what’s wrong?” Brown asked urgently, dropping to his knees in front of Harry.  
  
“I don’t know,” Harry gasped as pain coursed through him. “It hurts,” he cried.  
  
Brown pushed Harry’s hands to the side and pulled Harry’s top up slightly. “There’s nothing there,” he stated, a frown adorning his handsome features. He was silent for a few moments as the pain Harry was feeling subsided slightly. “It’s Damien,” Brown told him, helping him to his feet. “Come on, Carmine’s got him. We’ll wait up at the hospital wing.”  
  
“How do you know that Carmine’s got him?” Harry asked, wincing at the pain he felt in his stomach.  
  
“You and Mr Evans aren’t the only two people who can speak telepathically,” Brown smirked as they arrived in the hospital wing. Harry looked at him curiously as he sat down on the bench outside the hospital. But Brown shook his head. “I’ll explain later,” he assured Harry when Carmine exited the doors in front of them.  
  
“You got here fast,” Brown observed as Carmine sat on the chair arm next to Brown.  
  
“Or it could be that you took ages to get here,” Carmine retorted, smiling sweetly at Brown who rolled his eyes.  
  
“How’s Damien?” Harry interrupted them.  
  
Carmine turned to look at him and his expression turned serious. “He’s unconscious right now,” he told Harry. “Someone stabbed him here,” Carmine pointed to the right hand side of his stomach.  
  
“That’s where my stomach hurt,” Harry said to Brown.  
  
“It’s the telepathic connection,” Brown told him. “Because Damien’s mind is connected to yours, and vice versa, you can feel his pain and he can feel yours.”  
  
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Carmine smirked.  
  
Brown rolled his eyes. “Harry, you should get some rest,” he advised.  
  
“I’m not leaving Damien alone up here,” Harry said firmly, shaking his head. “I’m staying.”  
  
“How are you planning on doing that?” Carmine asked curiously.  
  
Harry smirked at him. “I have my ways,” he replied.  
  
Brown held his hand up, silencing whatever Carmine was about to say. “He’s my student, I don’t want to know how he’s going to break the rules.”  
  
Carmine sighed and nodded his head. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” he whispered across Brown to Harry, who grinned.  
  
Brown elbowed Carmine in the ribs. “Well, make sure you at least get  _some_  rest,” Brown relented, nodding his head in satisfaction when Harry agreed. “We’ll be back in the morning,” Brown said, patting Harry on the shoulder as him and Carmine left.  
  
“What did you manage to find?” Brown asked quietly as him and Carmine walked toward Brown’s rooms.  
  
Carmine reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver chain with a pendent hanging from it. “This,” he said, handing it to Brown.  
  
“Where was it?” Brown asked glancing at the detail inscribed on the pendant.  
  
“In Damien’s pocket,” Carmine replied. “You know what that is, don’t you?” he questioned, pointing to the necklace.  
  
“You’re the historian,” Brown said, “why don’t you tell me?”  
  
Carmine sighed and glared at his lover. “Dave, you don’t have to be a historian to know what that crest means. And I know you’ve been researching this particular family for ages,” he added, jabbing his finger onto the crest.  
  
“Yeah,” Brown whispered, “this is the Malfoy family crest.”  
  
***  
  
As soon as Carmine and Brown had disappeared down the corridor Harry lifted his wand and concentrated on his invisibility cloak that was lying in the bottom of his trunk. A few moments later the cloak was flying through the air towards him.  
  
He quickly donned the cloak and as silently as he could he slipped through the doors into the hospital wing. It didn’t take him very long to locate where Draco was, the hospital wing was empty except for one guy Harry recognized as a Slytherin chaser who must have taken a bludger to the head or something during the match.  
  
Draco’s bed was surrounded with curtains to prevent nosey students looking at him. Harry quietly made his way across the room, all the while aware of Madame Pomfrey who he could see through the open door of her office. She didn’t look up when Harry pushed the curtain aside slightly, nor when it fell back into place.  
  
Harry sighed sadly when he saw that Draco was lying on the bed. He was, just like Carmine had said, still unconscious. Harry moved and sat in the chair that was next to Draco’s bed, tugging it closer.  
  
 _‘Draco?’_  he asked, trying to get a telepathic response from his lover. A few tears fell when all he got in response was silence.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Draco,” Harry whispered, more tears falling. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t have suggested that you get some fresh air this wouldn’t have happened. I’ll find who did this to you, I promise,” he swore, reaching out and taking Draco’s hand in his own.  
  
“Please don’t die,” Harry begged, feeling more tears fall. “You can’t leave me. Not now. I-I love you, Draco,” he whispered, resting his head on the bed next to Draco’s hand on the bed, all the while hidden underneath his invisibility cloak.  
  
***  
  
Harry awoke when he heard people talking around him. He groaned silently and sat up. He felt the cloak slide off of his face but he felt a hand stop it from falling. He looked up to see Carmine and Brown stood on either side of him, looking at Professor Dumbledore who was talking to Madame Pince. Carmine put a finger to his lips, indicating for Harry to remain silent.  
  
“David,” Dumbledore said, turning to face the young teacher, “have you found any kind of dark charm on the knife that we found?”   
  
Brown shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir,” he replied with a sigh. “It seems like it’s just your average dagger, available at any store and not magically charmed at all.”  
  
“Very well,” Dumbledore nodded his head gravely. “We should leave Mr Evans to his rest. No doubt he’s feeling drained from losing so much blood.”  
  
Harry glanced over at Draco who’s eyes were open and he was looking at them sleepily. Harry gasped in surprise without meaning to. Carmine quickly sneezed to cover up the noise that Harry had made and the Gryffindor felt a foot connect with his calf as they were left alone with Draco.  
  
“What the hell was that for?” Harry demanded, pulling the cloak off of his face when they heard the door to the hospital wing close behind Dumbledore.  
  
“For making so much damn noise,” Carmine replied, matching Harry’s glare with one of his own.  
  
“When did you wake up?” Harry asked, looking over towards Draco.  
  
“A few hours ago,” Draco replied. “I wondered why there was something warm in my hand,” he commented, looking down at the hand that Harry was still holding.  
  
Harry blushed and realised Draco’s hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled.  
  
“Harry, please take the cloak off,” Brown sighed, “it’s very eerie speaking to a floating head.”  
  
Harry smiled apologetically and shrugged out of the cloak. “This is very cool,” Carmine grinned, running his fingers over the silky fabric of the cloak. “Where can I get one of these?” Brown cleared his throat and Carmine released the cloak, “Sorry,” he apologized, setting the cloak aside.  
  
“I already told you and Dumbledore that I didn’t see who did this to me,” Draco sighed, wincing at the dull ache he felt in his stomach.  
  
“I know,” Brown replied. “That’s not why I wanted to talk to you two. I don’t know if you remember anything about after you got stabbed, Damien,” he said, “but Carmine found you lying unconscious on the edge of the forbidden forest.”  
  
“You shouldn’t really have been out there in the first place,” Carmine added. “It was a pretty dumb thing to do. I managed to get you to the hospital wing before you lost too much blood and Madame Pomfrey was able to patch you back up. Before I handed you over into her care, this fell out of your pocket,” he held up the necklace that he had shown Brown the night before.  
  
“Before you start trying to think of a bad excuse as to why you would have this is your possession,” Brown said. “Let me save you the trouble. We’re not going to hurt you or tell anyone the truth. We’re here to help you, both of you,  _Mr Malfoy_.”


End file.
